The Best of Friends
by TheOneTrueBear
Summary: Set during First Date, how Buffy and Willow's conversation might have gone had they really been the best of friends. One Shot Fluffy spuffy piece of fun.


The Best of Friends  
  
A/N Big thanks to the wonderful April who very kindly corrected my terrible grammar on this one too, even though she's only contracted for WPTH :) Believe me without her my commas and colons are all over the place.  
  
..................  
  
Willow looked over her shoulder as she picked up another sock from the basket. "So, he asked you out to dinner?" she asked curiously, feelingly a little like the high school nerd who had excitedly grilled her glamorous friend for details of how the other half lived, and dated.  
  
Buffy gave her an affectionate smile, recognising the nostalgic charm of the moment. "Yeah. Isn't that weird? I mean, he's a Principal. He's a young, hot Principal with earrings, but he's a Principal." She paused and tilted her head, a puzzled frown marring her brow. "Why do you think he asked me out? I mean, he could be interested, right?" She knew she was fishing, prompting her friend to bolster her flagging ego, but it'd been so long since a normal guy had been interested in her, she could forgive herself the slight insecurity.  
  
Willow gave her a wry half smile. Pretty girls need reassurance, too, you know. "Yeah, sure. You're a frisky vixen," she assured her friend.  
  
A sudden thought made Buffy brighten—ooh, even better than a date. "Or it could be work-related," she suggested hopefully. "Maybe I'm getting promoted for doing such a good job."  
  
Willow laughed at the slayer's joke. "A promotion? Good one, Buffy." Ooops—hurt look. Maybe not a joke. "Oh, right, that—that makes sense, too," she backtracked clumsily with an apologetic smile.  
  
Buffy raised an unconvinced eyebrow at the witch. "Or maybe he knows that I suspect he's up to something, and he's taking me out to kill me," she suggested, letting the reality of life on the hellmouth intrude on their enjoyably girly bonding session.  
  
Willow accepted the suggestion with a negligent shrug. "Well, you'll have to dress for the ambiguity."  
  
"You know, it's not even that he's acting that suspicious," she continued. "It's just—there he is. On the hellmouth. All day, every day. That's got to be like being showered with evil." No, that wasn't right; a confused line appeared between her brows. "Only from underneath," she amended with a slight shake of her head.  
  
"Not really a shower," Willow teased gently.  
  
"A bidet." Buffy brightened at having found the analogy. "Like a bidet of evil."  
  
"Buff, if he's really interested," she gave the blonde a coy smile, "are you interested back?"  
  
"I don't know." Buffy felt herself blush slightly. "He's good-looking, and he's—he's solid, he's smart, he's normal." They were all good points, criteria she'd promised herself her next boyfriend would meet. "So, not the wicked energy, which is nice 'cause I don't want to only be attracted to wicked energy. Or what if he is wicked, in which case, is that..."  
  
"Stop, Buffy," the witch cut into her introspective ramblings. "Are you attracted to him?"  
  
It really should have been an easy question to answer: yes or no. But somehow Buffy found herself sighing and shaking her head. "I don't know," she admitted as her friend abandoned laundry duty and came to sit cross- legged on the bed alongside her. Buffy turned, pulling her own legs up onto the bed. "I mean, he's definitely hot, no denying that. And he seems like good company. You know, smart and funny. Plus, for the moment we're assuming he's a normal guy, and, you know, human. So that's all good." She paused, chewing her lip and avoiding her friend's eyes. Part of her didn't want to do this, just wanted to say "we'll see" and get out of there. But another part – the big part inside that had been missing her best friend for what seemed like years – just wanted to talk to Willow about this, let her help.  
  
"Buffy?" the witch prodded gently.  
  
"He is great," she answered determinedly. "And he's very attractive." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. "He's just a little...I don't know. He's not... he's a bit..." she trailed off. She couldn't do this; there was no way Willow could understand.  
  
"A bit...not Spike?" the redhead suggested gently, watching the slayer intently for evidence that her suspicions were correct. The guilty flash across the other's face, the sharp intake of breath, and the stiffening of her body were definitely proof enough. She held her friend's hazel eyes, her expression soft and understanding. After a moment's silence, she raised and eyebrow in invitation for the slayer to speak.  
  
Buffy huffed and let her tense shoulders drop, and with a roll of her eyes she decided to try letting Willow in again. "He's really not," she conceded, "which is a good thing, right?"  
  
"You tell me, Buffy." Willow tried to keep her voice even. If the slayer thought for a moment she was being judged, she'd clam up again.  
  
"Well, yeah, obviously it is." Even in her own ears, Buffy sounded unconvincing, so she amended: "It should be." She sighed heavily and buried her head in her hands.  
  
"Not a good thing?" Willow asked gently, raising her hands in a calming gesture when the slayer's head shot up, expression alarmed and defensive. "It's okay, Buffy. I know it's been a long time since we really talked. But hey, still best friends, right?" She waited for the Slayer's slow nod. "So you can tell me anything. I won't judge, and I won't tell."  
  
She watched the conflict play out across the slayer's face – to trust or not to trust? To open up or to hide? She waited patiently, trying to make her eyes convey understanding and support.  
  
Finally Buffy seemed to come to a decision. She took a deep breath and studied her hands where they lay clasped in her lap. "Spike's kinda intense," she began slowly, eyes riveted to her fingers as she picked at her newly-dried nail polish. "I mean, in everything, when we were trying to kill each other, when we were..." She glanced up nervously at the witch. "You know."  
  
Willow gave her a half smile and nodded for her to continue.  
  
"So for years Spike's been here, and one way or another he's been this huge part of my life..." She glanced away at that admission. "Spike's, I don't know, he's Technicolor." She met her friend's curious eyes, searching for understanding. "Compared with him, everything else seems kinda lifeless."  
  
Willow's lips quirked at that and Buffy let a small laugh escape her. She rolled her eyes. "And, yes, I am completely aware of the irony in that little statement."  
  
"So?" Willow prompted after they had shared a short companionable silence, drawing out the word and raising both eyebrows.  
  
"So nothing." Buffy swung her legs off the bed and moved to her dressing table. Slipping into the chair, she met her friend's eyes in the mirror as she fixed her earrings. "Spike and I are over." She sighed and started pinning back her hair. "Actually, Spike and I never were. There was no relationship, Will. No sharing, just angst and fighting and a whole lotta great sex." She saw Willow blush in the mirror and gave and apologetic smile.  
  
Willow fingered the hem of her blouse, embarrassed that, even now, just the mention of sex made her blush. Still, somehow she enjoyed feeling like a schoolgirl again and looked up with a mischievous smile. "How great?" she asked innocently. "Come on. Details."  
  
"Will!" Buffy feigned shock, swivelling in her chair to face her friend. "I'm not going to..." She saw affection and mischief dancing in Willow's eyes, and fought back a smile. Fine, two could play that game.  
  
"Just unbelievable, Will." She leant forward over the back of the chair and cradled her chin in her palms with a theatrical sigh. "I mean, just hours and hours of non-stop earth-shattering, toe-curling, screaming pleasure."  
  
Willow gave an embarrassed squeak and covered her ears dramatically.  
  
Buffy smiled victoriously and closed on the witch. "And Willow, don't even get me started on the things that man can do with his tongue, or his hands, or his co..."  
  
"Buffy!" Willow shrieked her hands waving in front of her as if to ward off the slayer's lewd words. Buffy laughed then, a happy genuine laugh that her friend gladly joined in. After they had been quiet for a few moments, Buffy continued, her voice once again serious and regretful.  
  
"It was violent, and hurtful, and just unbelievably screwed up, but it was good, too," she confessed softly. "It was Spike and it was Technicolor and..." She sighed and straightened, her expression resolved. "It's okay," she assured the redhead with a forced smile. "It's over, which is of the good." She met Willow's unconvinced gaze in the mirror and gave a sad smile. "It's okay," she repeated a little less firmly, letting melancholy colour her voice. "It'll just take a little while to get used to monochrome again, that's all. Could you pass my lipstick?" She gestured to the bedside table, ending the conversation.  
  
"Here you go." Willow stood, opening the coral pink gloss. "Ooh, pretty." She replaced the lid and handed the tube to Buffy. "I'd better go see how Kennedy's doing."  
  
"Okay," Buffy answered distractedly as she turned back to the mirror.  
  
"Buffy." Willow looked back from the doorway, watching as her friend turned to face her, open lipstick in her hand. She looked so pretty, so feminine, it was easy to forget that she was the slayer. Who would know from looking at her that she carried the weight of the world on her deceptively slight shoulders? That she faced the darkness alone, night after night.  
  
She smiled softly at the slayer. "You know what, Buff?" she asked rhetorically. "I think you deserve Technicolor."  
  
Fin  
  
Just a little one shot piece of fluff written for my own sanities sake, "What price to high" is really taking it out of me creatively. My, aren't I pretensious? Creatively? I'll be talking about "My art" next ;-)  
  
Hope it can make someone smile  
  
Hugs and Slugs TheBear 


End file.
